


Welcome To The Universe

by aeon_entwined



Category: Actor RPF, Marvel Avengers Movies RPF, Thor (2011) RPF
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Fingerfucking, Hand Jobs, M/M, celebratory shagging, elsa is a cool cat, these boys are horndogs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-09
Updated: 2012-03-09
Packaged: 2017-11-01 16:57:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/359160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aeon_entwined/pseuds/aeon_entwined
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chris and Tom sneak off from the wrap party for the Avengers. Banter and celebratory shagging ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Welcome To The Universe

**Author's Note:**

> Written for my lovely **[Ruhi](http://thewintersoldier.tumblr.com/)** because she and I share an undying love for these stupidly perfect men. ♥
> 
> Disclaimer: NOT INTENDED TO REFLECT ON THE ACTUAL PERSONALITIES OF THE ACTORS MENTIONED HEREIN; THIS IS PURELY A WORK OF FICTION

It all started when Chris locked gazes with him across the bar, expression loose and strangely content, alcohol and general good humor vying for dominance in the clarity of those piercing blue eyes despite the fact that the entire cast is pretty much exhausted.

Now they’re standing on the balcony of his hotel room on the sixteenth floor, champagne flutes in hand (stolen from the wrap party still happening on the ground floor), staring out over the city.

It’s been a long road to get here, if they’re both to be honest about it. First, it was _Thor_. Then, _The Avengers_. Now? Who rightly knows? _Thor II_ will be somewhere along the line, but not for a while. For now, the whirlwind has died down enough for them to actually breathe properly and Tom can hear himself think for the first time in quite a while.

Not that he’s currently doing much thinking besides calculating how long it’ll take him to get Chris out of his goddamn tuxedo. (Because of _course_ the Aussie had to go all out tonight.)

“Everything’s going to be different, you know?” Chris’ voice isn’t slurred, but it sounds a touch melancholy.

Tom offers a half shrug. “Everything already _is_ different, ‘case you haven’t noticed what with all the press junkets and screaming people waiting for us at the cons.”

Chris glances at him sideway and he can’t quite suppress the wry smirk.

“You’re a cynical bastard, you know that?” Chris’s eyes are starting to go a bit squinty (they’re always squinty, but Tom knows how to decipher the man’s mood depending on the severity of the squinty-ness).

“And yet you still love me,” he parries easily, limbs relaxed and loose as he sets his champagne flute down on the chair next to the railing and ambles casually into his suite. Chris Hemsworth loves more than one person. Tom knows what they have isn’t exclusive. And he’s fine with that. The man’s married, for pete’s sake, but Elsa’s more than generous when it comes to allowing what had already been taking place over the course of filming _Thor_. She encourages it, if she's feeling particularly charitable. Tom's insanely grateful to her for that. He has a feeling Chris feels the same way.

Chris laughs, loud and completely proportionate for a man of his size. He follows without being told, shedding his jacket onto the desk chair as he goes.

They’re silent for the most part as they undress. This is already a practiced dance between them. They watch each other occasionally, sharp eyes sliding over the increasing amount of bared flesh, but they make no move to help each other. Tom put it down to some sort of weird alpha male posturing thing in the beginning that they just refuse to acknowledge and he’s gone with that ever since.

By the time he’s naked and fishing the bottle of lube out of his dresser to toss onto the pillows, Chris is prowling across the room with clear intent.

Tom shivers a bit, still awed by the predatory grace in every line of the man’s body when he actually puts effort towards being elegant rather than bluntly powerful. Chris has an inch or so on him in height, probably somewhere close to three stone when it comes to weight. He’s just … large. 

He’s large and unbelievably warm, especially when their fronts are pressed together, arms wound around each other’s shoulders.

Tom spends a few moments resting his cheek against the warm curve of Chris’ throat, just breathing him in. He always smells good. It’s a logical impossibility, but he accomplishes it nonetheless.

After a slow inhale that leaves nothing but the scent of musk and _male_ lingering about his nose, Tom drops to his knees, unceremoniously taking Chris’ half hard prick into his mouth.

Chris makes a stifled gasp above him and Tom smirks inwardly. He likes being able to take the man by surprise. It’s refreshing. He strokes his tongue over the length of him, then retreats to the head, dipping the tip of his tongue beneath Chris’ foreskin and delighting in the full body tremor that he can feel where he’s holding Chris at the backs of his thighs.

He suckles lightly at the head for a few moments, waiting until Chris is fully erect and fully on board. Then, he relaxes his throat and takes Chris as deep as he’s physically capable of doing. Tom gags just a little, but it’s negligible in the long run. He’s got more important things to be focusing on right now. 

They’ve been at each other (verbally, visually, physically) for the majority of the night, so he knows neither of them is going to last long this round.

Doesn’t matter.

He hollows his cheeks and sucks, relishing in the bone-deep groan that tears out of Chris’ throat as he comes down Tom’s throat.

Two large hands land on his shoulders and Tom obediently offers himself as a grounding mechanism until Chris finds his legs able to properly support him again. Then, he’s being hauled upward and pushed onto the bed, all while simultaneously being kissed fiercely and nipped at, his sensory input going completely haywire.

Chris’ tongue is in his mouth, which is rather nice, and his hand is on Tom’s cock, which is even nicer.

He doesn’t try to gain control of the kiss, but rather surrenders graciously in order to allow Chris to chase down the lingering traces of his own release, a thought that sends a quiet shiver down Tom’s spine despite the number of times they’ve done this.

There’s a thumb flicking over the head of his cock (fully hard now, thanks to both the previously administered blowjob and the currently rather enthusiastic attentions being paid to it), and then it’s gone. Why the hell is it gone?

Tom’s about to open his eyes and complain about the current state of affairs, when he hears the faint _snick_ of a lid being closed and then there are two slick fingers stroking over his perineum.

He whines high in his throat, arching instinctively into the pressure. Chris purrs something low and promising in his ear, but Tom’s too focused on the pleasantly loud thudding of his heart to hear him.

The petting continues for a few moments, then gradually evolves into the careful pressure of a single finger slipping past the ring of his entrance.

“ _Uh_ ,” Tom makes a noise that sounds like surprise, but could be almost anything. He pushes back against Chris’ hand regardless. He hasn’t done it in a while, so his muscles are a bit unused to the sudden invasion, but it’s not painful.

After a minute or so of the steady pressure, there’s a second finger sliding alongside the first. The feeling of _invasive_ increases and Tom makes a quietly disapproving sound in the back of his throat. He doesn’t say stop, though, and Chris doesn’t ask. They know each other far and away well enough to know the signs if someone needs to back off.

He gets distracted for a few minutes by the sheer heat of Chris pressed against the length of his back, and when he comes back to himself, Tom realizes Chris has got four fingers in him, working him open as methodically and steadily as possible.

Tom gasps sharply as several of Chris’ fingers rub over his prostate and he makes that little fluttering panting noise that means he’s close.

Chris takes the hint, staring to work his fingers into Tom’s body at a more rapid pace, twisting them sharply upward with enough force to actually scoot Tom a bit closer to him. Tom’s eyes fly open wide at that, his orgasm taking him completely by surprise as his body seizes up and he splatters his own stomach with his release. He never even needed to touch himself.

As his heart rate starts descending and he can actually feel his appendages again, Tom rolls over, tucking his head beneath Chris’ chin and exhaling a contented sigh.

The rumbling laugh that builds somewhere in the middle of Chris’ chest and slowly travels upwards to emerge from his lips is something Tom will never get tired of. He smiles in spite of himself when Chris’ arm slides around his waist and pulls him closer.

“Go to sleep,” the thick Australian accent washes over his forehead as Chris kisses him there and Tom decides to do exactly that. They’ll recharge their batteries for a bit, then see where things go.

When he wakes up, the first thing he notices is it’s completely dark outside. So that means he probably slept for a fair few hours. The second thing he notices is a pair of definitely moist fingers stroking over his entrance.

Tom exhales a sleepy hum and lazily pushes back towards the source of the gentle petting, the hum shifting into a groan as both fingers slip into him, meeting almost no resistance.

“How long you been awake?” he mumbles, fingers twisting restlessly in the sheets as his cock stirs between his legs.

“Not long,” Chris’ reply is sleep-rough and unbelievably sexy.

He’s plenty loose from several hours’ prior, and he quickly makes his thoughts on that particular subject known by reaching behind himself and grabbing hold of Chris’ wrist with one long-fingered hand.

They make eye contact over Tom’s shoulder and Tom just smirks.

There’s the _snick_ of the bottle cap closing again, and he has less than twenty seconds to wait before the head of Chris’ cock is slowly, _slowly_ pressing into him.

He groans, clenching reflexively around the slightly more blunt invasion, then forces himself to breathe, to relax.

God, it’s been a while since they’ve had time for this.

Chris pushes him over onto his stomach and Tom can’t find it in himself to complain, especially when Chris’s free hand (the one not holding the majority of his weight up) curls over his own, lacing their fingers tightly together.

Tom squeezes harshly, panting as Chris bottoms out. There’s a moan at that point that neither of them are going to own up to anytime soon, but it sounds glorious all the same. 

Chris has his nose buried against Tom’s nape, the whole of his body quivering lightly as he struggles to hold himself still so they don’t lose themselves too soon.

“Move,” Tom hisses, clenching his fingers around the other man’s again. “ _Move_.”

The order is readily obeyed, and Tom closes his eyes almost instantaneously as Chris begins slamming into him, loud grunts fanning over the skin at the nape of his neck.

He gasps on the occasional upstroke when Chris manages to hit his prostate, but mostly tries to keep his wits about himself enough so as not to fly apart completely.

That’s a bit more easily said than done, though. Chris is scalding him from the inside out and it’s all Tom can do to bite his lip almost hard enough to break the skin, riding the rhythm out and whimpering whenever it feels like he’s about to go tumbling headfirst over the edge.

“Come on,” Chris’ mouth is right against his ear now and his voice is so rough it’s almost unidentifiable. “You did it before, Tom, come on my cock or nothing. _Come on_.”

A ragged sob tears itself from Tom’s throat as he starts writhing frantically against both the mattress and Chris’ weight, shoving himself back as Chris thrusts forward in order to create a counterpoint that sets them both groaning helplessly.

“Chris, I gotta-“ Tom pants harshly, fingers twisting around the other man’s as his muscles spasm in a sudden contraction. “Gonna come .. right now-“

A guttural snarl escapes Chris at that and the next thing Tom knows, there are teeth sinking into the meat of his shoulder and his vision is actually _whiting out_. 

For a few long, stretched out seconds, his world is nothing but white noise. Static. Nothing.

Then, he comes back to himself and Chris is shuddering through his own release, thrusting helplessly those final few times before collapsing half atop Tom’s body.

“Prick,” Tom grunts tiredly, his vocal cords too overworked to produce much more than a rasp of sound. But Chris is actually a rather nice blanket (if they’re going to ignore the wet spot for a few minutes) so he can’t really complain all that much.

The afterglow is a bit too nice to spoil with things like being half squashed into the mattress. It’s alright, he’ll survive.

“You,” Chris mutters against the side of his throat, gradually shifting enough to spoon up behind him again. “Are a hazard to my health.”  
Tom snorts, wriggling enough to get himself out of the wet spot and settle more comfortably against his bed partner. “Oh? How’s that, exactly?”

“Going to give me a fucking heart attack before I hit forty,” Chris chuckles, voice gradually thickening with sleep as they settle into the blankets again.

“And then I will have finally bested you,” Tom teases affectionately, pressing a kiss to Chris’ bicep before reaching up and properly tucking his pillow beneath his head. “Sleep, now.”

“Mmm,” Chris makes a noncommittal sort of agreeing noise, and it’s obvious that he’s already half unconscious.

Tom smiles to himself, knowing that he’ll be plenty sore in the morning (and sporting a hell of a bruise on his shoulder to boot), but it’ll be worth it.

It always is.


End file.
